I Been Absent in the Spring
by window124
Summary: A brief flash of what could have been.
1. Phantom Spring

From you have I been absent in the spring,  
When proud-pied April, dressed in all his trim,  
Hath put a spirit of youth in everything

-William Shakespeare

"It's a boy!"

Fitz felt the air leave out of him and he was surprised by the reaction he felt in front of the hot cameras in the White House nursery. A boy. It was going to be a boy, this child that was conceived out of political expediency. It was as if the world had constricted to those words and nothing was beyond them. A boy, growing, made from him, growing into a reality he thought would never come. This child was real and he was coming and Fitz did not know whether to be happy or sad about the development. He could do nothing but contemplate it. A boy.

In the stillness of the moment before Mellie grabbed his hand and pretended to be excited he felt another hand grasping his, a phantom dream of a lush spring on his ranch, a brown hand taking his own and lowering it to a swollen stomach, full and plump with promise. Her ghost of a smile haunting him with what could have been. With what should have been.

"Fitz, it's a boy."

In another life he was happy. In another life he was with her. In another life the boy would not only grow from him but from her making him content. Olivia. And that boy would grow with her smile and her smarts. He would teach him how to ride a horse when the morning was still cool and she would watch from the hillside, smiling. A boy. Their boy. A phantom in a rapidly vanishing dream.

He felt Mellie's hand and knew he was in front of the cameras again. In the White House again. With her again. And a boy. A boy who should have had someone else for a mother.


	2. Summer's Story

That heavy Saturn laughed and leaped with him,  
Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell  
Of different flowers in odor and in hue,  
Could make me any summer's story tell,

-William Shakespeare

Olivia Pope had to admit that Fitz had gotten very good at faking it with his wife. She would often watch him on television, smiling as he rubbed Mellie expanding belly, or kissing her on her cheek as if he loved her, and had to admire his technique if not his craft. In her mind, she would coach him as she always did, as if he were a prospective underling instead of a man faking his marriage. She would clinically think as he twirled his wife at a state dinner that maybe a small peck on the lips would make it look more romantic to the public or that if he had simply taken Mellie's hand at one point during an interview it would play well.

So here she was watching him, popcorn and wine in hand, ready to see his latest performance as if it were the Super bowl of PR. She watched his smile and his charm. His make-up person had done an admirable job on both his face and hair. She lived for this. Watching and observing powerful people change their image and their lives by doing what she wanted them to do. Quinn might not appreciate it but she knew what she was doing and now she was going to watch one of her pupils take the reins.

"It's a boy!"

She focused in on his face and saw his smile strain for a second.

"Come on Fitz don't blow this. Just a couple of more seconds." She whispered to herself. Fitz looked as if the wind had been knocked out of him as he repeated what the reporter had just said. And in a weird way she knew what he was thinking and suddenly he was as real as he could get on national television.

"_We are not doing this!"_ She could still feel his and taking her elbow and bringing her body close to him, his rage and love heating him and her at the same time. The betrayal in his eyes hurting her to the quick.

Too personal. His eyes were too personal then and they were now staring at the camera. She knew him enough to know that his mind was drifting. Drifting to what ifs. Drifting to her and she felt the invisible thread that was always between them pull.

"_Me? I think we'd have some gorgeous kids."_

"_Fitz…"_

"_What? Can't I just stay in fantasy world for a bit? See a cute little boy or girl with curly hair and a devious smile?"_

"_Because it gets us nowhere."_

"_Sometimes nowhere is the place to be, Livvie."_

And god help her she had imagined it in bed with him. Indulging in a fantasy that could never happen and now she knew that was what was playing in his head. That image of the child they constructed on a whim after soul stirring sex.

"Snap out of it, lover boy." Olivia said to him and watched as Mellie put her hand on his. She felt a sigh of relief as his fake smile came back and then the brief bout of fury as Mellie screwed the pooch on Sudan.

"Fucking Mellie. Always overplaying her hand." Olivia took a swig of her wine as the interview concluded. Fitz had done an admirable job except for that one moment after the sex of the baby was revealed. He had become a very good PR person indeed.

She took the remote and re-winded back to the reveal of the baby and looked at his face again.

And again. And again.

And was nowhere and everywhere with him and child that never existed. It was the place to be.

**A/N: Yeah, I know. Like I don't have a twenty other stories to attend to. Lol But damn them they got me writing this. Sigh.**


	3. Drawn After You

Or from their proud lap pluck them where they grew;  
Nor did I wonder at the lily's white,  
Nor praise the deep vermilion in the rose;  
They were but sweet, but figures of delight,  
Drawn after you, you pattern of all those.

-William Shakespeare

He stared at the phone. It had been an exhausting night of fighting with Mellie, dealing with panicked allies on the phone, and trying to figure out how to manage what his wife had said to a national and international audience.

_Olivia would know._ A voice told him. But he knew the rules. He wasn't supposed to call. He wasn't supposed to contact her. She had made it abundantly clear that the deal was the deal and that she didn't want a life with him, both professional and personal. What was there to say? He missed her? He dreamed about her? He felt like he was in hell without her?

He began to pace. Maybe this was the time for him to ultimately to cut the cord between him and Olivia. To stop thinking about her and what their future could have been. Stop pretending there was a them anymore. He could handle this on his own. He didn't need her.

_You need her. You've always needed her even when you didn't even know she existed._

Fitz took in a deep breath his fingers going through is hair. It was late. Maybe she was asleep but then going back to her nocturnal schedule on the campaign trail he doubted it. She was too wired to sleep much and it was only when they had made love that she would sleep deeply, his arms cradling her until the dawn when she made a quick escape to her hotel room in whatever city they were in.

He pictured her knowing that she had probably watched the interview and had analyzed his performance on camera. So she would know the situation he was in. And she would know what was best in this situation. She was a natural at it. His Livvie.

He was asking for trouble. He was opening a door he wasn't sure he could close.

_Fuck it._

He grabbed the phone.

"I need a secure line."


	4. The Silence

Yet seemed it winter still, and, you away,  
As with your shadow I with these did play.

-William Shakespeare

Phone calls were a delicate balance of silences and vibrations, the silences counting more than the vibrations. The silence hung there, like pregnant raindrops foreboding a dark storm.

_I hate you too._

The silence stormed into both of them and electrified their spirits and hearts to something greater than both. This was a storm after the drought, a refresher from the hard work of loving from afar, it was the breath between the exhausting run, so they breathed in each other. And breathed. And breathed.

_Goodnight, Olivia._

The silence remained even after the dial tone sounded.


End file.
